


unspoken

by LunchLich



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Happy Sex, M/M, One Night Stands, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunchLich/pseuds/LunchLich
Relationships: Hawke/Varric Tethras, Male Hawke/Varric Tethras
Kudos: 7





	unspoken

They acknowledge it in little jabs while they share drinks around a table, in glances behind tankards, in suppressed snorts behind hands when someone says something that only tangentially reminds them of the night. 

They tell no one else about it and never speak of it again, and yet without an utterance, it becomes something of an inside joke between them. They lock golden-brown eyes, and they know.

They're still giggling about it, just like they had that night. As Hawke kissed him, they laughed. As a heat of the moment kiss turned into a second, and that second turned into a fifth with far more tongue, they laughed breathlessly against each other's mouths. 

Hawke was still laughing when he hooked his fingers through the loop of Varric's necklace and pulled him down on top of him, falling flat onto his back against the bed. Varric felt those laughs as he kissed his throat. Hawke's lips never faltered from their grin, even as moans and whispers of his companion's name began to pass through them, too.

His elbow bumped into Varric's forehead while he tried to get his shirt off. Hawke nearly lost his balance trying to kick off his trousers and, alright, maybe they'd both had a drink or two. Maybe that's why they'd laughed like that, why'd they'd had so much genuine  _ fun _ . 

They had laid there, legs overlapping, with Varric's hand wrapped around both of their cocks. Hawke's moans were interrupted by chuckles when the dwarf's chest hair tickled and scratched his skin, and his laugh was infectious. Even the stuttered breaths when he came sounded more like laughter than anything, as strange as it felt to be snickering through an orgasm. 

But it had felt so good, and he'd been so happy, why not laugh? 

They'd spent the night together, too, laying beside each other and cracking jokes about how they must have sounded, wondering if anyone had heard them. If Isabela overheard, had the noise traveled through The Hanged Man, she never brought it up. And neither did they. 

It wasn't uncomfortable, during or after. It only became awkward when it was time for Hawke to hoist up his trousers and set off for the day, to say goodbye to Varric like nothing had happened, and pretend the splotchy purple marks on his neck hadn't come from him. 

It was unspoken - to leave the moment as it had been, to not tarnish it with a retelling or a repeat. To leave it frozen in time in the way few things were. Hawke never spoke of it to anyone who asked about his closeness with the dwarf. Varric never twisted the tale to write into a book, and he conveniently forgot about the night he and The Champion of Kirkwall shared a bed when the Seeker came sniffing. 

And yet, when their chairs sat too close and laughter lit up the room, they didn't need to bring it up. They lock golden-brown eyes, and they know. 


End file.
